Slayer
by Weapon of Choice
Summary: Damien finally has his own story line. Poisonings and such along with a new character who's going to stick around.
1. New Roommate

A/N  
  
Here I go again, only this time by popular demand I've made a plot of my own. After this y'all may see why I was sticking to the real ones. But seriously this may go a little slower being that it's moving into finals time at college for me, which is obviously going to take precedence over the writing. Damien still looks like Orlando Bloom, I still don't own anything, but a new character is coming for good. Hope you like him! And a special thank you to the folks who review after every chapter, you know who you are!  
  
THANKS  
  
I fought my way down the hall to my dorm room. There were boxes lining the wall across from my room, stacked one on top of the other.  
  
"Good grief," I said as I shoved one out of my way to get to the door, "how much stuff did you have Jack?"  
  
The blond haired young man who was picking up a box turned to me and grinned.  
  
"Apparently too much, huh?" he said, "at least the honors dorms are bigger. That was my main motivation for moving to one."  
  
He glanced around to make sure no one else was there.  
  
"I feel sort of bad for Sherlock," he said in a low voice, "he's not too thrilled with getting a new roommate. He seems to know the person, well, at least whoever is taking my place requested to be with him. I don't get it, but Sherlock sure isn't happy about it all."  
  
I was baffled. He knew his roommate? Damien Holmes, more often then not called Sherlock, knew very few people. Why hadn't he told me?  
  
At that moment the person in question emerged from the room. Damien was carrying a box, which he dropped on top of one outside the door.  
  
"That's it," he said in his heavy British accent, "last one."  
  
"I hope there was nothing breakable in there," Jack said with a grin.  
  
"Nope, just love letters," Sherlock shot back.  
  
"I wish," Jack said with a laugh.  
  
Damien gave one of his winning grins. Tall, with an extremely attractive face, dark hair and good build, Sherlock really was an incredibly good- looking man. He could also be as abrasive as a Brillo pad. He never could handle people well and his social skills were normally nil. Yet somewhere in my mind I could see him being incredibly charming when he needed to be. I say needed because I don't think he ever actually wanted to be charming. I personally think he was afraid of people liking him.  
  
"Class," he said suddenly, "got to go."  
  
He grabbed a notebook in the room and started out.  
  
"Lunch?" he asked as he passed me.  
  
"Why not?" I said.  
  
As I watched him disappear down the stairwell, I heard Jack chuckling.  
  
"What?" I said, a little annoyed at being laughed at.  
  
"You two," he said, "when is either one of you going to admit you like each other?"  
  
"We're not like that," I answered defensively.  
  
"You ARE like that Shell, you just don't know it. You are the only female who can put up with him for long spans of time and who actually seems to enjoy his company, and he has never treated a girl like he treats you before. He's not stupid; he knows a good thing when he sees it. He's just afraid to act. Which makes this incredibly amusing for everyone who knows you both to watch. You two are the smartest people yet you can be so oblivious some times."  
  
"I don't like the way this conversation has gone," I said.  
  
"Yeah, well, sometimes you need the truth," Jack said as he picked up another box, "I'm just curious what it's going to take for you to admit it to each other."  
  
With that, he started down the hall with his things, leaving me rather puzzled and a bit flustered. 


	2. The New Guy

A/N  
  
Pinkpanther- I'm not actually sure, but I think I do use HTML  
  
Meibou- Maybe DANGER, maybe NEAR-DEATH, or maybe ANOTHER GUY.  
  
Moonrose- Actually I am a girl  
  
WoC  
  
As I left my dorm room for class, I noticed Jack had finally gotten all of his boxes out of the hall. The door to his former room was standing open and someone was kneeling on the floor pulling stuff out of two new boxes. When the person finally turned around and looked up I was shocked. It was a guy about my age I'd have said, but that wasn't the part that had me floored. It was his looks.  
  
Tall almost athletic build, he was a little on the thin side, but his black shirt and jeans seemed to accentuate that. His hair was dyed ink black and he had several piercings, a couple in the cartilage of his ear and most apparent, the one in his lip. It also looked like he was wearing dark eye shadow. He was what I would immediately call a punk/goth. Yet sometimes really good looks are hard to mask, and this guy had them. Full mouth and incredibly blue eyes, his attempt to look different only enhanced his looks. He was striking.  
  
I suddenly realized I was staring and felt myself flush with embarrassment. He was looking at me with obvious interest and had a slightly amused smile tugging at his mouth.  
  
"Hello," he said, getting up, "I take it your from across the hall."  
  
"Yeah, and you must be the new roommate," I said, thankful not to be so awkward anymore, "you're taking Jack's place."  
  
"Uh huh, well, I guess that was the guys name."  
  
"I'm Shelley by the way," I said.  
  
"Micah Anderson," he said, holding out his hand, "I suppose you'll have to put up with me from now on."  
  
I shook his hand and smiled.  
  
"You can't be any harder to put up with than Damien," I said, "he's in a category all of his own."  
  
Micah gave a grunt that I didn't know how to take. He did know Sherlock didn't he? Why else would he room with him? This was all getting extremely confusing.  
  
"So you're new here?" I asked.  
  
"Just transferred from upstate," he said, "I'm in the arts program."  
  
"Oh, so you're artistic," I said.  
  
"If that's a nice way of saying I'm weird, you're probably right," he said with a smile.  
  
I laughed. There was really nothing I couldn't like about the guy. He actually seemed really friendly and was very polite. Rather startling first impressions aside, I figured I actually could like him. There was a certain seriousness about him, but he was genuinely personable. Better than Damien anyway.  
  
"Nice to meet you," I said, backing away.  
  
"Yeah, same. I'll see you."  
  
I smiled as I went down the hall. No, I wouldn't mind seeing him again in the slightest. 


	3. Family Ties

"So when were you going to tell me about the new roommate?" I asked Damien as I sat down to lunch.  
  
Sherlock just gave me a look and continued eating.  
  
"Stop being a jerk and tell me what you know about him," I demanded.  
  
"You met him?" Sherlock said blandly.  
  
"Yes I did, and he was very nice."  
  
Damien looked at me suspiciously as he chewed. A rather stormy look was forming on his face.  
  
"He's a freak of nature," he said, "don't trust him and don't like him."  
  
I was shocked. Damien was hard to get along with sometimes and could be unwittingly rude, but it wasn't like him to be downright mean. Surely this wasn't just because I was showing a slight interest in another guy was it? I flushed a little, thinking it might be. It was a little flattering in it's own way.  
  
"Why don't you like him?" I asked, "and how do you know him anyway? And if you don't like him why are you rooming with him?"  
  
"He's my stepbrother."  
  
I nearly fell out of my seat. My first feeling was shock to know the relation between Sherlock and Micah, the second was a slight pang of disappointment that his reaction had nothing to do with me, he just didn't like his stepbrother. I suddenly felt embarrassed that I would consider that as an option at all. Why would he care who I liked or disliked?  
  
"Why didn't he get a different dorm?" I said, "it might have made things less tense."  
  
"Mum didn't want that," Damien glowered, "she thought we should be looking out for each other. That's a joke."  
  
"Why don't you like him?"  
  
I was starting to tread on dangerous territory and I knew it. Sherlock wasn't an open person and this was starting to get personal. Damien blinked before saying anything.  
  
"Ever just resent someone because they were who they were?" he asked.  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Micah's good at everything he tries. He's smart, he's social and he can make people like him. He likes the attention. Why do you think he looks the way he does? It seems like in my family everyone sort of gave up on me in favor of him. Mum even. I can't really blame them, I was a mess with drugs at that point. I never really was an easy keeper."  
  
Under that rather standoffish exterior, Damien was a very insecure person. His armor was rather hard to get through, and it rarely ever came down.  
  
"I'm sure it wasn't that way," I said, "you just think it is."  
  
Damien grunted.  
  
"Yeah, whatever. I'm going to the library," he said as he got up.  
  
"Are you sure you're being fair to him?" I asked.  
  
"As fair as I want to be," he said, "he doesn't pretend to understand me and I don't pretend to understand him."  
  
He eyed me.  
  
"And don't get any ideas about how you're magically going to reunite us. We weren't friends to begin with. Don't think he likes me anymore than I like him. It's just the way it is."  
  
I watched him leave. To me that last statement was like the throwing down of a gauntlet. Those two would have a relationship if it was the last thing any of us did. And knowing Damien it could well be. 


	4. Poisonings and Such

A/N  
  
Micah is parallel to an actual character. Micah=Mycroft. Personally I really like him. And if he makes Damien do SOMETHING about Shelley, it works for me…lol.  
  
Moonrose- Actually I have read your stories and you're on my favorite authors list. Please do write more, I love your Sherlock and Jenny.  
  
WoC  
  
The next day was a Saturday. I was awakened abruptly by banging on my door. It was a good thing my roommate had already left for work or I would have been hearing about how I had really annoying friends. I was starting to agree. I crawled out of bed and opened the door. Damien was standing in the hall looking at me expectantly.  
  
"What?" I muttered.  
  
"You're coming with me," he said quickly as he pushed past me into the room.  
  
"Have you ever thought I might have better things to do on a Saturday than follow you around?"  
  
"No," he said, then smiled, "and you know you like it."  
  
I sighed.  
  
"So who or what is dead or in trouble now?" I said, "you never come to me this excited about anything but that."  
  
"I'm offended," he said, not sounding so at all, "that you would think I only get excited over death and destruction."  
  
"So? Then what do you want?"  
  
Sherlock paused then looked a little sheepish.  
  
"There was a poisoning," he said smiling.  
  
"Only you," I muttered, "just wait for me downstairs, I'll be ready in a minute."  
  
I threw on some clothes that at least looked semi presentable, then hurried out the door almost running squarely into Micah.  
  
"Whoa, what the hurry?" he said holding me off of himself by my shoulders.  
  
"Your brother is impatient, that's what's the hurry," I said.  
  
"He's not my brother," Micah said bluntly, "he's my stepbrother."  
  
"Yeah, yeah and you don't like each other. I figured that out. Now I've got to go hunt him down before he goes to a poisoning without me."  
  
Micah looked at me like I'd grown another head.  
  
"Don't tell me that's what you do for fun around here," he said.  
  
"Not on the whole, just me and Damien."  
  
"He would do that," Micah muttered.  
  
"I've got to go," I said backing up.  
  
"Just be careful with him, all right?"  
  
Micah shocked me that he was so serious about that. Funny, I thought, Damien basically said the same thing about you.  
  
"I've got a paper due," he continued, "I'd really appreciate it if you'd meet me in the library later."  
  
"How do you know I'm even any good at writing papers," I asked suspiciously.  
  
"I have my ways," Micah said with a smile.  
  
So Damien wasn't the only one in that family who was a little underhanded. They had more in common with each other than they knew. 


	5. Deadlier Drink Than Most

I ran down the stairs and after Damien. I was slightly flustered; I had just agreed to something close to a date with Micah, yet I felt I should be a little more excited about it.  
  
"What took so long?" Damien asked as I caught up with him.  
  
The question snapped me out of my reverie.  
  
"Nothing," I lied.  
  
Sherlock didn't look convinced. Great, now what? He could mind read too? I didn't say much on the ride to the scene and neither did Damien. I had no idea what his problem was, but mine was keeping something from the one person I had always been honest with. Yet why should he care?  
  
We pulled into a very large house in the suburbs, one of those houses you would see in some magazine it was so nice. Three stories, in ground swimming pool, various greenhouses and gardening sheds and massive well kept gardens, this place looked like it must have cost a fortune. Chief Hawthorne met us at the door.  
  
"Good to see you kids," he said pleasantly.  
  
It always amazed me how officers could handle themselves so normally around death. I guess I was learning to but it was a forced effort. Maybe theirs was too.  
  
"Victim was 62 year old Albert Willmont. He apparently went to bed after having a nightcap and then went into convulsions and died. His son found the body and called the police. He was a very healthy man with no real physical problems, which is what raised our suspicions in the first place. There was no one in the house except possibly his son and a housekeeper who lives downstairs. There also is a gardener on the premises who would have had access to the house."  
  
"So you think it was the alcohol that was poisoned?" Damien asked.  
  
"It's being tested, but if I had to give you an answer right now I would say that would be where my money is," Hawthorne said.  
  
Sherlock turned to me.  
  
"If you were going to poison someone's alcohol, Shell, what would you use?"  
  
"A gun," I said, "poison always seemed like the cowardly way out, but with those symptoms I'd say it was definitely a narcotic poison and I would say probably strychnine. It's easier to get your hands on than the other ones that produce those effects."  
  
"Rat poison," Sherlock said, "they use it for rat poison."  
  
"It dissolves better in alcohol," I added.  
  
"Check and see if anyone bought any rat poison lately," Hawthorne said, stopping a nearby officer.  
  
"Was Mr. Willmont getting along with everyone?" Damien asked.  
  
" With his son, no. Yesterday Albert and his 23-year-old son, Dillon, had a 'slight disagreement' according to him. According to the housekeeper, Rosa, it was more like a shouting match culminating in Dillon banging out of the house and not coming back home until early this morning. He doesn't have an alibi, he said he was 'just driving around', he's got a key so that means he could have come back at any time to get the poison."  
  
"What about the housekeeper and gardener?" I questioned.  
  
" Rosa said she was in her room watching television from after dinner onwards, and the gardener, Glenn Thomas, was in his small house on the property," the Chief said.  
  
"I want to talk to everyone," Damien said.  
  
Hawthorne motioned us to wait and I sat down on a sofa. Sherlock was too busy thinking to pay much attention to me so I picked up a photo album and began flipping through the pictures. There were ones of Mr. Willmont when he was young; ones of Mrs. Willmont and her husband together, ones of a little blond haired boy who I guessed to be a young Dillon. They looked like a perfectly happy family.  
  
The young boy in question was ushered into the room revealing himself to be a thin, pale young man now. Dillon looked upset and nervous and about ready to bolt. He tentatively seated himself one the edge of a couch.  
  
"I'm telling you I just went out for a drive," he said insistently, "I didn't know he was going to die."  
  
"What was the argument about?" Sherlock said, snapping into mode.  
  
"He didn't like the crowd I was hanging out with, he said they were a bunch of young punks. I told him I was old enough to do what I wanted and he said not while I was still under his roof. We were both upset and I said I'd move out. Then I left. When I got back he was dead," Dillon said in a stricken voice.  
  
"Did you fight much?" Damien asked.  
  
"No, hardly ever," Dillon said sadly, "the last time I saw him I was yelling at him. I'm never going to forgive myself."  
  
At that moment a police officer walked over to Chief Hawthorne and said something to him.  
  
"It comes to my attention that you purchased some rat poison in the last week, would you mind telling me why?" Hawthorne asked.  
  
Dillon looked highly uncomfortable.  
  
"Glenn said that rats were getting into the sheds so I went and bought some poison for him."  
  
"Did you inform him you'd bought it?" Damien asked.  
  
"No," Dillon said as he squirmed, "I just stuck it under the sink and forgot about it."  
  
"You can go Mr. Willmont," Hawthorne said.  
  
As Dillon left Sherlock looked at me as if to say "what do you think?" I just shrugged. He seemed sincere enough, but that didn't mean anything.  
  
"I want to see the housekeeper and the gardener," Damien said. 


	6. Deja Vu

Rosa was a pleasant, middle-aged Peruvian woman who had moved to America not long ago. She revealed that she had gotten a job as the Willmont's housekeeper just within the last month. She replayed the events of the last evening, telling us that she had made dinner, then went to her room where she had heard the argument.  
  
"Have you ever witnessed a fight between them before?" Damien asked.  
  
"No sir," Rosa said, "they always talk nice to each other."  
  
Hawthorne excused her and turned to Sherlock.  
  
"She has no reason to lie," the chief said, "she's barely a suspect."  
  
"Barely still counts," Sherlock said with a smile, "you taught me that."  
  
At that moment, Glenn Thomas the gardener entered the room. He immediately looked familiar to me for some reason, but I couldn't quite place him. It was just the nagging feeling that I had seen him somewhere before.  
  
"Were you in the house last night?" Hawthorne asked.  
  
"In and out sir," Glenn Thomas replied.  
  
The gardener looked to be in his early thirties, with dark hair and a serious demeanor. He seemed nice enough though.  
  
"Were you in the kitchen at any time?" Damien asked.  
  
"Probably," the gardener said, "I was in and out and all over yesterday. I was sort of busy."  
  
"How long have you worked here?" Hawthorne questioned.  
  
"Coming two years," Glenn replied, "I like it here. The pay's good and I got a place to myself. Plus I got time for my own gardening. I like to raise exotic plants and insects. I keep them in one of the greenhouses."  
  
"Did you ever witness any fights between Mr. Willmont and his son?" I spoke up.  
  
"Well ma'am, not out right, but I don't think they were getting along very well. Dillon was getting too old to live here with his father and after Mrs. Willmont died, he never did seem happy here."  
  
"That'll do," Hawthorne said, and Glenn Thomas left the room.  
  
"I guess that's all we're going to get for today," Damien said and headed for the door.  
  
I followed, still thinking hard about why I recognized the gardener. My mind turned to other more complicated things once I got back into the car.  
  
"Come help me tonight," Damien said, "I want to go through some files."  
  
"I can't," I said as coolly as possible, "I'm helping someone with a paper."  
  
"Oh," Damien said with some surprise, "well, fine I guess."  
  
Did he sound disappointed? Was I reading that into it? This was all getting very uncomfortable and very complicated. It would have been so much easier if Micah had never moved in. No, I take that back, it would be so much easier if the two of them didn't hate each other's guts. That would have made everything so much easier. 


	7. Fancy Meeting You Here

I met Micah in the library that evening. He was sprawled out on a couch looking completely comfortable. I really could understand why Damien felt a little inferior to him, he seemed to do so easily what Sherlock couldn't do to save his life.  
  
After an hour of talking and helping Micah revise his paper, I found I really did enjoy his company. He was intelligent in a sort of abstract, creative way. He also had a quick, quirky sense of humor that I appreciated. He really was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met. He was genuinely interested in the poisoning case and I really could see him enjoying helping us.  
  
"Why don't you and Damien get along?" I asked finally.  
  
Micah sighed and leaned back on the sofa.  
  
"It's not that I don't like him," he said, "it's just he never liked me. I think he resented his mother marrying my father. They got married and soon after that he started drugs. Nearly killed his mother worrying about him, but he didn't care. Personally I thought he was a jerk to put his mother through that."  
  
"I think he was just trying to stop hurting," I replied, "he just didn't know where to channel it. He's found an outlet now. Solving crime seems to be what he needs, and I like helping him."  
  
Micah smiled.  
  
"He likes you I can tell," he said, "he's never hung around a girl this long without trying to run her off."  
  
"Oh he tried," I said with a laugh, "he just didn't succeed."  
  
Micah chuckled.  
  
"You're tougher than I gave you credit for, or crazier maybe," he said with a grin.  
  
"He's got a good heart and you remind me a lot of him. I wish you would give each other a chance," I sighed, "I really think you could like each other."  
  
Micah looked at me.  
  
"I don't know how to try anymore," he said with resignation.  
  
And then the bottom fell out. I looked up just in time to see Damien walk in the library and spot me. And then Micah. Damien walked over and looked from me too Micah. I waited for hell to break loose.  
  
"Oh so this is who you were 'helping'" Damien said scathingly.  
  
Micah jumped up.  
  
"It wasn't her," he defended, "I asked her to help me."  
  
"I'm sure you did," Damien growled.  
  
Micah's eyes narrowed.  
  
"I didn't do anything wrong," he said in a dangerously even voice, "and I don't see your name written on her anywhere. Back off Damien."  
  
Sparks flew from Sherlock's eyes and he shoved Micah backwards. Micah caught his weight and slammed into Damien. How was I going to stop this? I resorted to my only course of action. I wrenched Damien's arm back and forcibly stepped between them.  
  
"Stop it!" I whispered fiercely, "you're acting like a pair of 5 year olds on a playground."  
  
They both pulled themselves under control quickly after that.  
  
"Micah, I'm sorry. I'm going to have to cut out," I apologized.  
  
"No problem," he said, never taking his eyes off of Damien, "I'll talk to you later."  
  
I grabbed Damien by the arm and forcibly dragged him with me. We were going to have it out and I didn't want anyone else to hear it. 


	8. Realizing the Obvious

A/N  
  
Moonrose- I saw you over there trying to corrupt Damien. Well it didn't work; he's not going to beat anyone up. And a cruise eh? A novel idea I may have to keep in mind for later.  
  
Rampant- I'm in your bio? I'm flattered. Can't wait to see what you come up with for your writing.  
  
Masterblott- Anyone a fan of OB's is a friend of mine! Especially if they've read my LotR stuff. And yeah, I personally prefer him without the wig.  
  
Rosie- No offense taken what so ever. It's only the people who flame me that can't spell right that I'm offended by. You'd think if they wanted to criticize someone they'd at least be able to spell common words. But that's beside the point. I write so quickly and in such short amounts because I have a very short attention span when it comes to actually putting down what I want to say. That, and if you knew me, you'd realize I talk like this too. Yeah, I probably should write longer, but I'm a college student who works and beta reads too, leaving a rather limited amount of time for actual writing in front of a screen. I actually enjoy the beta reading as much as writing because it makes me feel part of a story with out all the work. Wow that was a lot of stuff you probably didn't want to know! I appreciate you taking the time to criticize nicely. As long as you can spell, you can say whatever you want…lol.  
  
WoC  
  
I dragged Damien behind me into the parking lot outside of the library. He didn't put up a struggle, so I had no problem escorting him to somewhere we could talk in privacy. I wheeled around on him.  
  
"What is your problem?!" I demanded in frustration, "I like Micah, he's a nice person. Why did you have to go in there like you own me and act like that?"  
  
Sherlock just looked at me rather sulkily.  
  
"You don't own me Damien. Do you know that? You don't own me. You never have. I may let you act like it sometimes and let you bully me around, but you don't have any say over what I can or can't do. Are we clear on that?"  
  
I was being harsh and I knew it, but his tirade at Micah was uncalled for. If he thought he could make me not like certain people just because he didn't like them, he had another thing coming. He had no reason to be so possessive of me. It wasn't like I was dating him or anything and even if I were it still was an overreaction on his part.  
  
Sherlock looked slightly like a scolded child who wasn't exactly sure what to do to make things better. I pitied him, but not quite enough to help him out yet.  
  
"Do I bully you?" he asked with a little worry creeping into his voice.  
  
"What do you call that little performance back there?" I snapped.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to be with him?" he said, finally getting his thoughts together enough to try and defend himself. For all his fast thinking when it came to crime, around other people Sherlock seemed at a loss to relate quickly.  
  
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd probably do this," I said then paused, "I shouldn't have lied to you though. That was my fault. I'm sorry."  
  
Damien looked confused. Personally I didn't blame him, one minute I was yelling at him the next I was apologizing.  
  
"Damien, look at me," I said turning him to look at my face better, "I just want you two to get along. Honestly I like you both. I think Micah wants to help us with the poisoning case."  
  
"No. Absolutely not," Sherlock said quickly.  
  
He wanted to play hardball? I could play hardball too.  
  
"Then I'm not helping you either," I shot back, "I don't have to be your lackey if I don't want to."  
  
Damien looked at me with a hint of panic in his eyes. I realized that if I wasn't with him, he had no one. As much as he came across like he wanted it to be that way, he was lonely.  
  
"All right," he finally said almost meekly, "tell him to be ready by tonight if he wants to come. I'm going back to the Willmont's house."  
  
Had I just won? Was I really that stubborn, or did Damien give up because he didn't want me to leave him? I had expected a little more of a fight than that.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said finally, "I didn't mean to ruin your date."  
  
Date? Is that what he thought Micah and I were doing? Sherlock looked so deflated I almost corrected his mistake. Almost. But I didn't feel that forgiving yet. What right did he have barging in and acting like an idiot?  
  
"You didn't ruin anything," I said, "I was just about to leave anyway."  
  
"Are you coming with me later?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," I said, "I'll be there."  
  
Damien nodded and left me. I was still puzzling over why he would immediately jump to the conclusion that I was dating Micah. Did I want to date Micah? I thought about that for a minute. I came to the conclusion that I only wanted to date Micah if he magically turned into Damien somehow. And that's when it hit me that I was in love with Damien. I was in love with the one person who saw me only as a friend. My life couldn't get any worse.  
  
A/N  
  
Do you get the feeling that through the whole thing Shelley hasn't even considered Damien might not have been trying to bully her as much as he was jealous? She really needs some more self-confidence when it comes to attracting men…lol.  
  
WoC 


	9. Maybe He's Useful After All

A/N  
  
Wakizashi- Forgiven(  
  
Rosie- I'm getting them together in the next story. Now before everyone stones me, it's going to be worth it. I promise. Just for now I like the tension. It'll make the end result better.  
  
WoC  
  
It took all the persuasive power in my command to convince Micah to come with Damien and me. He finally tentatively agreed.  
  
"I'm just curious," he said, "I didn't realize he worked so closely with the police."  
  
I was still rather unsettled from my earlier revelation about my feelings towards Sherlock. I would just have to nip it in the bud. He didn't like me. End of discussion. But if he did…  
  
I shook my head. There was no sense for getting my hopes up just to get hurt. That had happened to me too much in my life to try it again so quickly. I mean Micah, for all his odd looks, still seemed safer than Damien to me. Why did I always have to go for the unstable ones?  
  
I got Micah to agree to drive me. He had a brand new jeep and was more than happy to show it off to someone. Men and their toys.  
  
Damien was already there when we pulled up. He didn't look Micah in the eye and immediately turned for us to follow him.  
  
"No one seems to be home," he said, "which is rather nice. We can look around without being harassed. Hawthorne gave me permission, because he said that the police had been here and gotten all the evidence they wanted today. That gives us just this evening before we're trespassing when we come here."  
  
"Do you think they missed something?" I asked.  
  
"No," Sherlock replied as he turned around to face me, "I think they may not have been looking for something."  
  
I nodded.  
  
"They did seem like they were in an awful hurry to convict Dillon," I said, "though to they're credit, he made it easy for them."  
  
"You don't think the guy did it?" Micah ventured.  
  
Damien shot me a 'the things I do for you, woman' look, and shook his head.  
  
"I think there are some things that haven't been explained in a satisfactory manner," he said with a forced calmness to his brother.  
  
I sighed. Yes, he was being nice, but did he have to make it so painfully obvious that he was putting forth such an effort?  
  
"You know," I said, "I keep having the feeling that I've seen that gardener somewhere before. I wish I could place him, but I just can't figure it out."  
  
Damien looked at me with interest.  
  
"You mean like in town or something?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know," I said with a sigh, "but when I think of it I'll tell you."  
  
"Speaking of the gardener," Sherlock said, "I'd like to go into his personal greenhouse."  
  
"Didn't the police already?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah, but I don't know if they were looking for the right thing."  
  
"And what would this right thing be?" Micah spoke up.  
  
"I don't know yet," Damien admitted, "but I will when I see it."  
  
He tried the door to the greenhouse, but found it locked. He tested his weight against it, but realized that the door was too sturdily made too give any. Damien turned back to me and sighed.  
  
"I didn't want to break a window, but it looks like I have too," he said.  
  
"Not really," Micah replied as he bent next to the door.  
  
He jumped up and walked over to a small pile of debris. After rooting around a minute, he came back with a piece of wire. Sticking it in the lock he gave a few quick movements with his hand and stood back. The door swung open. Damien stared at his stepbrother as if Micah had just performed a magic trick. Micah gave one of his good-natured smiles back.  
  
"You pick up some interesting stuff in art class now and then," he said with a shrug.  
  
I could only look at Damien rather triumphantly. He gave me a 'maybe he is good for something after all' look and walked into the greenhouse. Micah and I exchanged smiles behind his back.  
  
The greenhouse was divided into two rows with a long table down the middle. There were plants on the outside next to the glass, but on the table there were little containers all lined up on shelves. I pulled one out and nearly dropped it in surprise. Inside was some kind of cockroach type creature.  
  
"What in heck does he have here?" I said in disgust.  
  
"He told us he collects exotic plants and insects," Damien said non- chalantly, "I take it this is where he keeps them."  
  
I wandered around the other side of the shelves and straight into a cobweb.  
  
"You know," I said, "I really need to start getting paid for helping you. I shouldn't have to follow you around walking into spider webs for free."  
  
Damien shot me a dirty look and proceeded to study the stuff on the table. I wandered around to the other side of him to see what he was looking at. It was rows of what looked like chemistry set tools.  
  
"Maybe he uses them on the plants," Micah offered as he joined us.  
  
Sherlock just gave a puzzled look then turned to me. His eyes widened and he grabbed me by the elbows.  
  
"Shelley, don't move," he demanded, "whatever you do, don't move." 


	10. Well, That Was Interesting

A/N  
  
I see all I have to do to get everyone involved in the story is leave someone in grave danger at the end of every chapter. Mean of me I know, but I had fun.  
  
WoC  
  
I froze. Damien sounded so insistent that I stopped dead. And then suddenly I felt it. Something was crawling up my neck. A sudden almost unbearable panic came over me.  
  
"Damien," I whimpered.  
  
"Just hold still," he said, concentrating on whatever was on my neck, "I can't get it off until it get to your hair. I'm afraid it will bite you if I try now."  
  
I looked at Micah frantically. He seemed as frozen as Sherlock. I couldn't take this much longer.  
  
"Do something," I pleaded, "Damien, please."  
  
"Just trust me," he whispered, "I'll take care of it. Just trust me now."  
  
I closed my eyes and felt the creature crawl up my neck towards my ear. It was a spider. I could tell from the way it was moving across my skin. And it was big. I could tell that too. I felt it start to move to my hair and suddenly with one quick movement, Damien had knocked it to the floor. I exploded forward into his chest almost hysterical. I turned my head to see a massive brown spider start to crawl away on the floor. Sherlock slammed his foot down over it with a disgusting noise. I buried my face back in his chest. It looked childish, I know, but I had just been traumatized.  
  
"It's all right," he soothed, "you're fine. I've got you."  
  
I clung to him until some of the panic subsided. Even then I still didn't want to let go. It may have been a guilty pleasure, but I wanted him to be holding me. After all it just felt good to be safe. I finally pulled away from him and leaned back against the table. Micah watched us like a third wheel. I felt a little bad for him, but hey, he hadn't been the one to save me from the spider. Sherlock had proved himself quite adept to getting me in and out of trouble. I realized that even though I had pulled away, he still had his hand on my arm, as though to jerk me back to himself if any more danger was presented.  
  
"Well that was interesting," he said almost blandly, yet he was still breathing rather shakily, betraying that he had been upset by the situation, "maybe we do need to start paying you."  
  
I moved over to the plants where I figured it might be safer, and let the two continue their search. Sherlock still looked over at me from time to time as if to make sure I was still all right. I turned around and began studying the plants behind me.  
  
"Damien!" I said suddenly.  
  
Both he and Micah wheeled around.  
  
"What?" Sherlock said urgently.  
  
I pointed to the plants in front of me. They were all meticulously labeled, but one in particular had called my attention.  
  
"Nux vomica," Damien said as he and Micah came up behind me, "that's an Indian plant if I remember my botany correctly."  
  
"It's also where you originally get strychnine from," I said with a raised eyebrow. 


	11. Hypothesis

Damien picked up the potted plant.  
  
"So it wasn't rat poison at all," he said, "it was the real thing. That would explain the chemistry set over there."  
  
"The gardener did it?" Micah asked, "but why?"  
  
"Therein lies the problem," Damien remarked philosophically.  
  
The gardener. Where had I seen the gardener?  
  
"Nux vomica has seeds that contain strychnine," Damien was explaining, "in small amounts it's not harmful, but when you get a large enough dose it will shut down the nervous system."  
  
"So all he had to do was crush the seeds and add it to the alcohol," Micah said.  
  
"THE PHOTO ALBUM!" I shouted suddenly.  
  
Both Micah and Sherlock jumped.  
  
"That's where I saw the gardener! It was the picture of Mr. Willmont when he was young. He looked exactly like the gardener. Enough for them to be twins. Or father and son," I explained frantically.  
  
"But he only had Dillon," Micah said in confusion, "didn't he?"  
  
"Did he?" Sherlock said, his dark eyes narrowing.  
  
Micah sighed, "I don't know, I just asked you that."  
  
Damien looked like he was about to snap something nasty at his brother when I broke in.  
  
"Stop being so melodramatic, both of you. So let's say hypothetically Glenn was Dillon's what? Half brother? Let's say hypothetically that Glenn knew his father was Mr. Willmont. You haven't seen your father for years and all you know is what your mother told you, so what do you do? You go work for the man. You finally tell him who you are. What if he doesn't respond the way you want? Or maybe you're just jealous of the brother. What do you do?"  
  
"You slip some of your lovely little plant collection into your father's nightcap," Sherlock finished for me.  
  
"Exactly," I replied, rather pleased with myself.  
  
"Let's say in theory you hear your father and your brother fighting. It sounds like a great opportunity to get even with everyone," Damien said, working his plan out in his head.  
  
"So you two think you've got it all figured out do you?" a new voice said.  
  
I whirled toward the door only to see the gardener in question with a gun pointed at us.  
  
"We'll see how far you get with that little theory," he growled. 


	12. All's Well That Ends Well

"So you did do it," Damien said slowly, sort of pushing in front of me.  
  
I realized he was trying to shield me with his own body. I wasn't sure if he realized that he probably wasn't going to stop a bullet at that close of a range. Nice gesture though. The next thing I realized was that Glenn hadn't seen Micah yet. He had the gun trained on Sherlock and I, but was totally disregarding Micah, who seemed to be hidden from his view by the shelves. Damien noticed too. Micah stayed rather crouched near the table.  
  
"He left my mother before I was born," Glenn started, "I just had to know what type of person he was."  
  
"I take it that he didn't measure up to standards," Damien said sarcastically. He was walking a mighty thin line in provoking a man with a gun. I just hoped he knew what he was doing.  
  
Sherlock was slowly inching his way over to where Micah was, keeping me behind him the entire time.  
  
"He said I wasn't his son because he did know I existed. Can you believe that? He leaves my mother and acts like he has no responsibility whatsoever. He didn't deserve to live, and that thing I have to call a brother. Nothing more than a spoiled brat," Glenn continued.  
  
We had reached the edge of the table in the middle of the building. Micah I could see had backed up on the other side so that he and Damien were next to each other with only the table in between them.  
  
"So that justifies killing the one and sending the other one to prison?" Sherlock egged on.  
  
"I was ridding the world of scum," Glenn explained rather proudly.  
  
"Something you have no right to do," Damien said scathingly, "you're not God. You're just insane."  
  
That last comment was enough to throw Glenn off his balance. He made as though he was going to physically move towards Damien, but Damien was faster. At the same moment he lunged forward, Micah vaulted himself over the table. The gardener wasn't expecting the extra person in the slightest. He was completely taken off guard. One of the boys managed to smash Glenn's hand against the table and he lost hold of the gun. I launched myself at the weapon and pointed it at Glenn in shooter's stance. I did know how to fire a handgun and apparently it showed because he suddenly stopped struggling.  
  
"Cell phone," Damien gasped, "get the cell phone out of my back pocket."  
  
I complied and quickly dialed the police. We spent a rather tense 10 minutes until they got there, but finally Glenn Thomas was being handcuffed and hauled off.  
  
"Well, that was kinda fun," Micah said as he watched the police drive off.  
  
Damien and I just looked at him oddly. He grinned back and just shrugged.  
  
I smiled to see a slight understanding between the two men. It wasn't much, granted, but it was a start. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, they worked together well.  
  
Damien put his arm around me, "I've nearly gotten you shot and bitten on the same day. A bit much even by my standards."  
  
"Ah, I'm still in one piece," I said.  
  
"That's my girl," he said with a grin.  
  
Micah watched us with a smile and I reached out and put an arm around his waist too. I couldn't get any more comfortable than I was, between two people I really cared about. Maybe I'd tell Micah how I felt about Damien, maybe I wouldn't. I had a vague feeling that Micah already knew. He was perceptive. I'd figure it out eventually. Until then I was just happy to be with him. But knowing myself, I wasn't going to hold out that long.  
  
I looked up at Damien. Nope, I probably wasn't going to be able the hold out that long at all.  
  
~Finis~  
  
A/N  
  
I promised they'd get together in the next story and I intend to deliver. I've got finals, so it may take a little longer to put up than normal. Bear with me. I'm getting very attached to "my boys" and they're both fun to write. Thanks for the reviews! It makes me write faster.  
  
WoC (Weapon of Choice) 


End file.
